


In the Sunlight

by VioletBlue



Series: Looking for Answers [2]
Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Day At The Beach, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Underage Drinking, Vacation, these damn kids love each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26230081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletBlue/pseuds/VioletBlue
Summary: “Yo Sarah, wanna start a shitty dad club? I’m the founding member.”“Can I join?” John B. asked.“Totally, dude. But also Big John was just medium-shitty so you’re only a junior member. Kie’s dad is a dick but not that shitty so she’s like, a quarter member. And Pope is definitely not invited. His dad is way cooler than he is.”“Hey,” Pope protested weakly.“You know it’s true, dude,” JJ said, popping a jalapeno slice in his mouth before turning back to the breakfast preparations.Literally just JJ and the Pogues having a fluffy/angsty good time in the Yucatan and addressing their trauma and helping each other heal. Sequel to In the Weeds.
Relationships: JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge
Series: Looking for Answers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905091
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56





	In the Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot sequel to In the Weeds, but if you want to read it as a standalone there are spoilers to help it make sense at the bottom :)

Nobody left the OBX without leaving a part of themselves behind. The fishing trips at dusk, cold beers on hot days, the salty taste of clam chowder after a pleasantly exhausting day of hitting the surf break.

But usually, nobody left the OBX for a place this perfect. Which might explain why the five life-long Outer Bankers didn’t feel even a pang of homesickness that summer. 

Turns out, JJ was right. The Yucatan was where it was at. 

Five sixteen-year-olds living on top of each other in a foreign country wasn’t exactly rosy all the time, but they all played their parts in keeping each other sane.

Sarah was good for any situation that required a sparkling smile filled with the implications of privilege and money. She could flutter her eyelashes and flash her Tiffany bracelet, and suddenly suspicious glances turned into welcoming ones. It was thanks to her quick dispersal of cash and charming giggles to all the right people that the security guards, the police, and even the neighbors only nodded politely and smiled at the raggedy crew of teens living alone in a semi-abandoned beach house. 

It also turned out that Sarah was less Kook princess and more pure ruthlessness with perfect brows. When Rose and Ward had tracked them down and threatened to drag her back up to the States by her hair, she had whispered something that none of them heard into the phone but included the words “Rafe” and “the press” and the Camerons never called back. 

“Blackmailing your own family is pretty hardcore,” John B. had said with pride and a tiny bit of intimidation. 

“It’s nothing they don’t deserve,” Sarah said quietly, kicking the counter with her bare feet. 

JJ just gave her a fist bump and slid another helping of chilaquiles onto her plate. 

“Yo Sarah, wanna start a shitty dad club? I’m the founding member.”

“Can I join?” John B. asked. 

“Totally, dude. But also Big John was just medium-shitty so you’re only a junior member. Kie’s dad is a dick but not that shitty so she’s like, a quarter member. And Pope is definitely not invited. His dad is way cooler than he is.”

“Hey,” Pope protested weakly. 

“You know it’s true, dude,” JJ said, popping a jalapeno slice in his mouth before turning back to the breakfast preparations.

The Heywards had called once a week, with updates for JJ on their fostering license application and with reminders for Pope to keep studying while he was down there. A foreign language would be a big asset for his resume, he was reminded. Experience living abroad was perfect fodder for a college application essay. 

“I’m only not cool because they’re on my ass 24/7,” Pope muttered and JJ shrugged, conceding the point.

Pope’s job was logistics. He kept track of their expenditures in an Excel spreadsheet, careful to make sure that the gold money would last until September, with enough of a buffer to start savings accounts for JJ and John B. and the seeds of a college fund for Pope. Kie and Sarah had refused to take any money in the long-term: they had trust funds waiting for them. But they were happy to buy their share of mangoes and margaritas during that summer, something Pope that always made Pope frown as he added up their weekly costs. 

“300 pesos for a cocktail? Really?”

“Drinks are always overpriced at casinos.” Sarah had said, shrugging. “And John B. wanted to go gambling.”

Pope made a noise somewhere between a squawk and a squeal. “John Benjamin, please tell me you did not gamble away our very finite amount of wealth to a sleazy Cancun operation run by mafia expatriates?”

John B. exchanged an amused look with JJ. “Dude, you watch too many movies. It was like ten US dollars. Chill.”

Pope glared at his smirking friends. 

“Thanks for keeping track of everything though, seriously,” Kie said. “I had no idea that the grocer was overcharging me until you caught it.” 

“Y’all would be very lost without me,” Pope agreed. “Okay Kie, help me text back this girl from last night. What’s the Spanish for rigor mortis?”  
Kie’s job was communications. Not just helping Pope get laid or deescalating the stupid fights that swirled up around sharing a cramped space, but also communications with the outside world. 

She made herself call her parents once a week, where she tried to strike the right balance of self-sufficiency so they wouldn’t worry, and expressing how much she missed them so they wouldn’t feel threatened. She read the Kildare County Journal and the court reports carefully, keeping tabs on Luke’s situation so that JJ wouldn’t have to. She knew his trial was scheduled for just a week after school began, and that JJ would have to appear and testify against him. 

Part of her did miss her mom and her bedroom, but it was so worth it to see this version of JJ Maybank. Away from all the daily triggers of the OBX and his life of poverty and abuse, JJ was unrecognizable. All the little vices that had bugged her back home and disappeared. Now that he had enough money, he never stole. Now that he wasn’t living in fear, he smoked weed way less (still plenty, but way less). He wasn’t as loud or as restless or as shifty. It was like he’d settled into the version of himself that he was always meant to be. 

JJ had probably the most practical and important role of all of them, to everyone’s surprise, including his own. He was always sprinkling Spanish into conversations back home, but nobody really realized how fluent he was until he got off the boat and seemed shocked that nobody else could keep up with his rapid fire conversations. 

“Dude, you’re like, awful at school,” John B. had said. “How are you so fucking good at Spanish?”

“Spanish isn’t school,” JJ scoffed. “I mean, it’s just something you pick up. Right?”

The others blinked at him. 

“I mean like, half the guys at my dad’s garage speak Spanish. The dockworkers. The housekeeping staff at the hotel. Most of the other landscapers whenever I was working for them.” 

John B. shrugged. 

“Well, you’re extremely good,” Pope said, with a tiny hint of jealousy. Which JJ of course immediately seized upon. 

“I’m smarter than Pope! For once! In my goddamn life! Donde esta el tequila?

John B.’s job was simple. To get everyone else to chill the fuck out.

Which is what he was trying to do right now, with the minor complication that JJ and Kie had gotten into another one of their cooking wars. 

“Cooking together is supposed to be romantic,” Kie said, dodging a bell pepper stem launched at her from across the kitchen. 

“This is very romantic. When my tacos kick your tacos’ butt, you’re gonna say, ‘JJ, it’s so sweet that you’re such a better cook than me’ and jump all over me. Very romantic.”

“Um guys, I think that making dinner is not supposed to be this terrifying?” piped up John B, as a mushroom hurtled across the kitchen directed at JJ’s head. 

“Just because JJ was a line cook for like a year does not mean he can outcook me. I have the restaurant business in my blood,” Kie said.

“You sound like you’re on Chopped,” JJ said, holding a small bottle of chili powder, his eyes flicking between it and Kie. “And it’s not just a year, I’ve been the only one cooking for myself since I was eleven.” 

“Yeah, but the eggs you made when you were eleven tasted like car tires,” John B. said.

“JJ Maybank, if you throw that at me I cannot be held responsible for what I do to you,” Kie said, taking a step closer to JJ, her hand closing over the chili powder bottle. 

“Is that a promise?” JJ whispered, smirking, his eyes drifting down to Kie’s lips. 

“Okayyy, I’m out,” said John B, rolling his eyes. “Just bring dinner down the beach when it’s ready.”

“You’re having a smoothie,” called out Kie. After much urging, John B. and JJ had been convinced to go to the dentist for the first time in several years. It was cheaper than the States, and while JJ had miraculously escaped with only a lecture about flossing, John B. had a cavity filled. He was limited to soft foods for a while, which was fraying even his laid-back temperament. 

“I’ll sneak you some steak,” JJ stage-whispered, earning him a snapped dish towel to his hips. 

John B. shook his head fondly and closed the door behind him, letting in a rush of the balmy humidity that was constantly doing battle with the air conditioning. 

JJ grinned and grabbed a dust pan, bending over to sweep up the food scraps they had flung at each other.

Kie turned back to her cutting board, sneaking a glance over her shoulder at JJ as he re-tied the bandana around his tousled hair. 

“So, you’ve been cooking for yourself since you were eleven?” she asked softly. 

JJ paused for a moment before swirling the saute pan with a practiced hand, the sound of sizzling oil filling the air. 

“Yeah, Luke just stopped making food one day. I mean, he was never a crazy fancy chef, but he would at least get some pasta or something on the table. And then one day there wasn’t any dinner, and when I asked I got slapped, so I’ve been cooking for myself ever since.” His tone was determinedly casual, as if they were discussing the weather. 

Kie walked over to scrape her vegetables into JJ’s pan, taking the moment to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. He turned and smiled down at her and she leaned forward for a real kiss. They didn’t break away until JJ yelped when a drop of hot oil hit his hand from his spitting pan. 

“You’re distracting me, Carerra. Lethal weapon. Not allowed.”

By the time they got the food out to the beach, the light was rich and golden. John B and Sarah were shrieking in the surf while Pope read his book, humming excitedly to himself whenever he found a new factoid and marking it with a thick highlighter.

The meal was a combination of their talents: JJ’s fresh guacamole, Kie’s elote, and a joint effort on the carne asada tacos that they both had to begrudgingly admit was the best part of the meal. John B got an orange and mango smoothie and a slightly sandy leftover flan.

“Okay it’s official, I can never go back to American food,” Pope declared as he finished his last bite of meat and fell back on the towel. “Factory farmed ingredients can never compare.”

“I don’t know, I miss some American food,” Sarah said idly, playing with John B.’s hair as he rested his head on her thigh. “Oreos. Peanut butter.”

“You can totally get those both down here,” Pope said. 

“Yeah, for a huge mark-up,” said Kie. 

“I would potentially allow a small splurge for Jiff peanut butter,” Pope said with a shrug. 

“You guys are crazy,” said John B, squinting up at Sarah. “Why do you want peanut butter right now? That’s like all I ate back home. We have money! We can eat lobster!”

“Sorry babe,” Sarah said, lightly tapping his nose. “I love what I love.”

“Back me up here, JJ,” John B said, twisting to look for his friend. “Mole or peanut butter?”

“Definitely mole,” JJ muttered, grinding his beer into the sand. John B. frowned briefly at the blank expression of JJ’s face, and seemed to get the hint to change the subject. Which he proceeded to do by scrambling up and throwing Pope over his shoulder before sprinting into the ocean. Sarah giggled and went to join them, following the sound of Pope’s outraged yells and then subsequent victory cry when he got the better of John B. and pushed him underwater.

Kie watched JJ watching the action. His mouth twitched at the commotion but he still looked tired and older than he had in the kitchen. There were beads of sweat on his face that he wiped away irritatedly.

“What’s wrong with me?” he said quietly enough that only she could hear. There was a tiny break in his voice.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, J,” Kie said. She scooted closer so that their arms were touching, but leaving enough distance so that JJ didn’t get claustrophobic or feel trapped. Over the years they’d all mastered the art of being close to JJ without triggering a flinch. 

“I just thought about the taste of peanut butter, and I felt like I was back there. He gave me these horrible gritty sandwiches, and my mouth was too dry to chew but I was so hungry so I ate them as fast as I could and he just stared at me and then when he was hitting me, all I could think about was not throwing up the peanut butter because I didn’t want to lose the calories…” JJ broke off, burying his face in his hands.

Kie risked an arm around his shoulders, and when he leaned into the touch she flung herself around him completely, pulling his head unto her shoulder and biting her lip to stop her own tears from falling. Not right now. There would be time to process this later, on long walks with Sarah or early morning swims with Pope. Now he needed her to be strong. 

The other Pogues were respectfully moving away on the beach, giving JJ some space. John B. kept turning every few yards to look helplessly back, and she saw Pope touch his arm in comfort. They gave each other a little half hug, and Sarah tucked under John B’s arm. The three of them were backlit by the sunset now as they moved forward arm in arm, together. 

“You’re not broken,” Kie said hoarsely, when she found her words. “You’re so much stronger than he ever was. You are going to have a full and beautiful life full of love, and you’re going to recover from everything life ever throws at you.” She bent down to plant a kiss on JJ’s tangled hair. “And fuck peanut butter.”

He gave a choked laugh. 

“Fuck peanut butter.”

The evening turned dusky and purplish, the sand slowly cooling beneath them. Kie and JJ sat in silence, cuddled together as they watched the tide gather strength and come rushing in. 

When the other Pogues reappeared, John B. and JJ gave each other a complicated handshake and Pope stole JJ’s hat and Sarah gave him a seashell. JJ laughed, his voice strong and clear as it carried across the water. 

Tomorrow they would see a cenote, or maybe a pyramid, or go snorkeling in a canal or the reef. They would live one more day in a life that was never meant to be, a life they had stolen for one brief summer. 

They would make memories to keep the past at bay, and make plans to keep fear of the future in check. 

In short, that summer their mission was to have a good time, all the time. And they did.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick summary of the referenced bits of the previous fic: JJ was kidnapped by Luke after being hospitalized and temporarily taken in by the Heywards. He escaped and the Pogues fled to Mexico to avoid JJ being taken by the foster care system before the Heywards could get their fostering licence.
> 
> Feedback is coveted, thanks for reading!


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